


i set you off like a spark

by heartseekers



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: M/M, hangyul lowkey loses it when he sees the tattoo on seungyoun's side, light humor, roommates au, seungyoun and hangyul live together and one day it gets... messy, to put it mildly, yohan and hangyul best bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:42:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22068715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartseekers/pseuds/heartseekers
Summary: Dimly, Hangyul wonders if he’s also hit his head last night; he can’t really tell with the way it’s pounding—like a particularly mean little goblin is dancing all around his skull with a vengeance. He rubs his eyes again but Seungyoun’s still standing there, back bare and skin a pretty, creamy color that’s made livelier by the light streaming through their window.Nothing can prepare him for when Seungyoun turns around, smiling at Hangyul as if he doesn't have a tattoo pointing right towards his dick.
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 21
Kudos: 110
Collections: Midnight Stories 2019 Fanfic Collection





	i set you off like a spark

**Author's Note:**

> prompt number 40 for the midnight stories fic fest:
>
>> 40\. a seungyul roommates au in which hangyul sees his dorky roommate seungyoun shirtless for the first time and can't stop thinking about licking all over that gun tattoo.
> 
>   
> i played around with seungyoun's tattoos so he only has two in this fic, but i hope it's enjoyable nonetheless! title is from shinedown's oblivion. 

It takes a few tries for Hangyul to open his eyes, especially when his lids seem to have fused together. He groans and goes to roll on his side, almost falling off the couch when he does so, not realizing he’s not in his own bed—or in his own room at all. Thankfully, the rest of his surroundings are painfully familiar when he does manage to pry his eyelids open, groaning immediately when the bright light assaults him and effectively renders him useless again.

There’s a sunny little “ _finally awake?_ ” coming from the kitchen, sounding entirely too cheery for how early it is—and how hungover Hangyul feels. He cranes his head in the direction of the noise, groaning when that puts a strain on his neck and it makes him face the intense sunlight that’s definitely there just to make him more miserable. He thinks he sees Seungyoun sitting in front of the stove, moving around and pulling things from their cabinets, their entire living space smelling like eggs. 

Dimly, Hangyul wonders if he’s also hit his head last night; he can’t really tell with the way it’s pounding—like a particularly mean little goblin is dancing all around his skull with a vengeance. It’s then that he decides to stop drinking so much at parties, sending a quick little prayer and a _sorry, dude_ , to Yohan in advance. He’s promised Yohan that he’d always accompany him in his endeavors and that he’ll be by his side, always, even if he might’ve said that while they were both drunk; it’s still a promise worth keeping.

He rubs his eyes again, just in case. Seungyoun stays there, humming slightly under his breath while holding a pan in one hand, shifting it around to get the egg to coat it all evenly. His back is still bare, skin a pretty, creamy color that’s made livelier by the light streaming through their window. A few minutes ago, Hangyul would’ve cursed at it for being too bright, but that was before he realized that his roommate was cooking them both breakfast while also being gloriously shirtless. _At least he's kept his pants on_ , his mind supplies sluggishly. 

_Which is a shame, because his ass sure is perky_ , comes a moment later. Hangyul wonders if Seungyoun would hear it if he were to honest-to-God smack himself, but then decides against it. The goblin in his head would absolutely murder him on the spot. He settles on shifting around on the couch, wincing when his shoulders twinge from sleeping on the lumpy cushions all night. He doesn’t even remember how he got home—though he has a vague idea that he has Seungyoun to thank for that, the literal angel—but at least he’s made it in one piece; and apart from his flannel shirt missing (which is currently slung over the back of the couch, if only Hangyul would _look behind him_ ) he’s mostly clothed. His shoes sit neatly on the floor and he feels a bit sheepish knowing that Seungyoun probably had to unlace them and take them off for him.

The least he can do is offer to do the dishes for the foreseeable future.

“How do you want your eggs, Hangyul?” Seungyoun’s tone is light and airy, and he’s still stirring into the pan. He takes a plate from a cabinet and places it down next to the stove, arranging his scrambled eggs into a neat little pile. Hangyul’s really focusing on the small mound of food and doesn’t answer immediately, which prompts the older man to turn around towards him.

All the words die out on Hangyul’s tongue right away. There’s a dark smudge of ink along Seungyoun’s side, something he’s never seen before—way larger than the number on his wrist, the little smiley faces that Hangyul’s always thought matched his personality; dorky and sweet. This is… something else entirely, and he’s unconsciously craning his head to take a better look at it. 

Seungyoun’s inquisitive hum pulls him back into the present, making Hangyul’s eyes shoot up towards his face. He’s got this amused half-smirk-half-smile thing on his face that makes Hangyul squirm, knowing that he’s been caught staring. 

“Uh… over easy is good. Thank you,” he manages in the end and Seungyoun, thankfully, turns back around. Hangyul can finally breathe again.

He gets up from the couch, barely managing to avoid stumbling over his shoes; doesn’t tell Seungyoun anything as he heads towards his room, intent on changing clothes and then jumping into the bathroom to freshen up quickly even as the only thing on his mind is Seungyoun’s tattoo, what little he’s managed to see of it imprinted onto the back of his eyelids. 

Once he’s there he tries to distract himself by looking in the mirror, poking at his face randomly, anything to ignore the overwhelming urge to run back and push Seungyoun against their counters just to get a better look. His eyes are bloodshot but that’s not exactly worrying, given the amount of alcohol he’s imbibed last night. Part of him hopes that Yohan’s also dealing with a killer headache, because it’s only right that they get to suffer together. Sort of. From what Hangyul’s heard his roommate can be downright frigid at times, though, so he’s definitely not cooking Yohan a nice warm breakfast to help him feel more humane. Yohan still insists that his big puppy eyes and bunny teeth will melt his cold, cold heart one day. Maybe today _is_ that day. 

Being in the bathroom is almost enough to make him forget that Seungyoun’s still spectacularly shirtless—and _tatted_ —in their kitchen. That illusion is completely shattered once he steps back into the warm space, smelling like eggs and mouth-watering bacon and is that a carton of orange juice that Seungyoun’s brought out to the table? Hangyul thinks he’s still dreaming; he pinches himself just in case.

The older man’s back is still turned to him, so Hangyul’s momentarily spared from those enticing lines of black ink. It just makes him even more curious about what it could be, and he even finds himself wilting when he realizes that Seungyoun’s going to put a shirt on before sitting down to eat (though he’s handling hot bacon grease without anything to protect him from it, so who knows, really?). 

Seungyoun probably senses that Hangyul’s hovering around the table uselessly. “You can sit down, you know,” comes his voice, light as ever. He’s flipping the bacon when the toaster pops, scaring Hangyul and making him plop down into the chair without an ounce of grace. He thinks it’s not nice to get started without Seungyoun there so he just grabs a fork to rest on his plate, reaching for the pepper shaker to pour liberally over his eggs. They look perfect from afar, and Hangyul doesn’t doubt that the inside is just as gooey as when his mom makes them. Seungyoun seems to have a knack for being good at everything he does on the first try. 

He keeps looking at the eggs, willing his stomach to stop rioting at the sight of fresh food when Seungyoun finally turns around, plate of bacon and toast in hand. Hangyul’s glad he’s sitting down because that means he can’t fall right on his ass, knees going inexplicably weak at the sight of an old-fashioned but still absolutely beautiful revolver taking up almost all of Seungyoun’s right side. The pattern on it is intricate and Hangyul gets the overwhelming urge to _touch_ , run his greedy hands over the smooth skin stained black with the complex design. He doesn’t miss the way the barrel points down towards Seungyoun’s crotch, etched right over the natural dip between his stomach and hipbone. It’s all tantalizing and mouth-watering and Hangyul feels himself going numb the more he stares at it, throat drying up and dick twitching pathetically in his pants when he thinks that it’s the perfect shape to follow with his lips and tongue, all the way down to the root of Seungyoun’s cock.

That is a problem, he realizes, especially when Seungyoun’s hand comes into view to wave at him and then cover his tattoo, hiding part of it from Hangyul’s hungry eyes. His cheeks burn and he tries to make himself small, act like he didn’t just ogle his roommate and maybe also gotten a chub. 

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Hangyul says dumbly. He licks his dry lips, distantly wishing it was Seungyoun’s skin instead and where the _fuck_ do these thoughts keep coming from? 

“It never really came up before,” replies Seungyoun, looking… sort of shy when Hangyul finally tears his gaze from his stomach. He tucks a strand of long hair behind his ear, almost demurely, and his cheeks are starting to flush a lovely shade of red. Hangyul is enthralled. “I was really young when I got it, it’s my first one,” and Hangyul’s reminded of the difference between the revolver and the tiny tattoo on his wrist again. Such a contrast between those two, and to learn that Seungyoun got the gun first… against all reason, he feels another stirring in his stomach. Hangyul swallows, willing himself to calm down.

Seungyoun folds one leg down onto the chair and sits down, signaling the end of that conversation. Unsurprisingly, his tattoo disappears from view and Hangyul frowns. His dick twinges again and he should really get that looked at, because otherwise he’ll need to admit that he maybe feels attracted to Seungyoun, physically, and he’s not sure he can deal with that right now. “We should eat. And then maybe you can go check in with Yohan.” Seungyoun’s amused voice cuts through Hangyul’s inner monologue, mirth shining in his eyes when he looks up at the younger man.

“What’s wrong with Yohan?” Hangyul sounds confused, because he _is_ confused.

“He seemed convinced I was going to dishonor you last night. His exact words, even.” If only Seungyoun knew about the thoughts currently running through Hangyul’s head. Incidentally, his eyes land on Seungyoun’s chest, the pebbled points of his nipples sitting on surprisingly defined pectorals. Hangyul’s staring, and he knows it; especially when Seungyoun sighs and pushes his chair back, a wry smile twisting his lips. “I should probably put a shirt on, huh?” 

He’s gone from the table before Hangyul can react; not that he’d do anything but agree with Seungyoun. Fork still in hand, he’s waiting for the tell-tale click of Seungyoun’s door shutting behind him but he’s surprised again when the older man swishes past him only a few seconds later. It takes a moment for Hangyul to register what he’s seeing—a sliver of Seungyoun’s skin bordered by his own shirt, the one that he thought didn’t make it home with him. It’s nothing special; just a soft, loose, dark grey piece of clothing that Hangyul’s had for a while, actually. But Seungyoun makes it look nothing short of sinful, especially when the shirt parts and his tattoo peeks out again, tormenting Hangyul with its ornate design. Seungyoun still looks as serene as always, taking a seat and actually digging into his food this time.

Hangyul doesn’t think he can do the same; his head feels heavy all of a sudden, pounding in time with his heartbeat. He’s nauseous, feeling something spike up inside himself whenever he sneaks another look at Seungyoun. It has to be wrong, suddenly wanting to see what Seungyoun’s skin tastes like, if the ink is as bitter on his tongue as it is black. The crisp lines call to him and mess with his head and Hangyul bangs his knee against the table as he gets up, excusing himself as he practically runs towards the bathroom; all in an attempt to get away from the image of Seungyoun, beautiful and entirely too tempting in front of him.

He doesn’t get to see Seungyoun’s lips sticking out in a pout behind his back, hand creeping up to pull the shirt closed over his chest. Hangyul’s reacted positively up until now, when he seemed to suddenly panic and want to retreat. With a small sigh, Seungyoun takes another bite of his eggs and pulls his phone out, going to text Yohan and let him know that it will probably be a while before Hangyul’s ready to meet him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> and so begins the epic tale of seungyoun and hangyul’s thousand year weird courtship dance. as for yohan’s roommate, that would be wooseok who definitely has the softest spot for this big fluffy silly underclassman,, but he can’t let other people know bc of Reasons
> 
>   
> my commissions are open! as always, you can find me on 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/deaconkink)   
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